The Ballad Of Keiko O'Brien
by Kirayoshi
Summary: When Chief O'Brien lies dying from a Dominion sneak attack, his wife joins the crew of a Klingon vessel in an effort to save his life.


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Disclaimers; Star Trek, and everything it entails, is copyrighted by Paramount Pictures. I own this  
story, nothing else.  
  
Summary; When Chief O'Brien lies dying from a Dominion sneak attack, Keiko joins the crew of  
a Klingon vessel to save her husband.  
  
Author's Note; This is my effort to give Keiko O'Brien(played by the marvelous actress Rosalind  
Chao), a long-overdue turn in the spotlight. Always a fav of mine, I wish that she had been more  
prominent in DS9. Oh well, that's what fanfic's for, right?  
  
  
THE BALLAD OF KEIKO O'BRIEN  
A tale of Star Trek; Deep Space Nine  
Written by Jim Means  
  
  
Miles O'Brien had just come off of his duty rotation and was on his way back to his  
quarters when his communicator beeped. "O'Brien here," he answered.   
  
"Chief," Julian Bahsir's voice chimed. "You busy tonight?"  
  
"What did you have in mind, Julian?"  
  
"I just got in a new 'World War II' holosuite program. Shall we make it Quark's in half an  
hour?"  
  
"I don't see why not. With Keiko and the kids back on Earth, my evening's free. See you  
there."  
  
"Will do, Chief. Bashir out."  
  
As Miles reached his quarters, he searched his memory for the location of the bomber  
jacket he wore for his frequent trips to the Battle of Britain with Dr. Bashir. He figured that  
Julian suggested the holosuite program as much for his own benefit as anything else; with his wife  
and their daughter back on Earth introducing their new-born son Kirayoshi to the boy's  
grand-parents and assorted relatives, the quarters they shared could get lonely. He laughed to  
himself at the thought that, ten years ago, he would never see himself being comfortable with the  
idea of sharing his life with another. Now, it was easier to come home to the boisterous  
cacophony of Molly and Yoshi playing, and the sight of Keiko studying her botanical journals or  
trimming her bonuses, than to an empty room. Now, he had a reason to put on his Starfleet  
uniform, to fight the good fight. His family gave his life purpose, completed him, made him  
whole.  
  
"Light," he called out habitually to the station's computer system, once he entered his  
cabin. But he immediately noticed that the living room was adequately illuminated. As he  
wondered whether he had forgotten to turn off the lights when he left that morning, he heard a  
familiar voice, soft and sweet, say; "I've already taken care of that."  
  
He turned on his heel to face the speaker, and stood surprised. "Keiko," he stammered.   
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"I live here," said Keiko, tossing her long black hair with a slight shake of her head.   
"Remember that warm body who often shares your bed? That's me." She smiled coquettishly, and  
added, "Unless there's something you wish to tell me."  
  
"Oh, no," said Miles, "nothing like that. It's just that I wasn't expecting you for three  
days."  
  
"I decided to cut my visit short yesterday," she replied, as she turned toward the  
replicator. "My father and I got into an argument; he said some terrible things about you, he  
accused you of endangering our children by living here, close to the Cardassian border. He said I  
had no business marrying a Star-fleet officer."  
  
Miles walked up behind Keiko and gently wrapped his arms around her waist. "I'm sorry,  
Darling. I didn't know that your father felt that strongly against me."  
  
Keiko turned her head toward her husband, and touched his cheek. "I don't blame you.   
And I really don't blame him. But what he said made me realize that my place was here. With  
you." She turned within the circumference of his arms, took his face in her hands and kissed him  
soundly on the lips. For an instant, Miles was lost, reveling in his wife's sweet lips, the clean smell  
of her hair, the overpowering scent of sandalwood--  
  
--but her regular perfume was more jasmine than sandalwood. And the way she  
kissed--kissing her was an activity he would never tire from, but there was something different  
about the way her lips pressed against his, the way she held him--  
  
He pried her hands away from him, looked fearfully into her eyes and declared in a voice  
of edged steel; "You are not Keiko!"  
  
She answered his horrified gaze with a look of cold calculation. "And you, Miles Edward  
O'Brien," said the thing that wore Keiko's shape, "are not going to have the opportunity to tell  
anyone. Within the next two minutes, you'll be dead."  
  
As she spoke, Miles felt a building vertigo sap the strength from his arms and legs, while  
his head reeled and his vision faded. As he slumped to the floor, he barely had the strength to  
trigger his comm-badge. "O'Brien-- t--to se--se--curi--t--" was all the utterance he could make  
before unconsciousness claimed him.   
  
It was enough. Within seconds, Constable Odo burst into the O'Brien family's quarters  
with a squad of security officers, all carrying phasers at the ready. Upon seeing Miles' comatose  
body on the floor, he triggered his communicator. "Odo to Dr. Bashir! Emergency transport to  
infirmary!"   
  
As Odo and his men had the fallen officer transported to the Infirmary, they failed to  
notice a fifth dining chair where there had only been four. Once the coast was clear, the  
Changeling had assumed its true form, that of a viscous pool of protoplasm. Its mission  
accomplished, it slithered away, down a ventilation conduit.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Twenty-four hours later;  
  
"Sorry, Captain," Julian Bashir, the station's doctor and Chief O'Brien's closest friend, said  
to Captain Benjamin Sisko in the infirmary. "There's been no change in his condition."  
  
"Any ideas yet what caused it?" Sisko demanded.  
  
"I don't even know what it is yet," Bashir admitted. "Any attempt to take him out of  
cryostasis would kill him in seconds.  
But while he's in stasis, I can't perform a complete medical scan to determine the cause of his  
illness."  
  
"How suddenly did this condition come on?"  
  
"Only minutes. I had just contacted him after his shift ended, and he seemed fine. He'd  
agreed to join me in the holo-suites. Two minutes later, I heard from Odo, apparently when he  
had fallen into this coma. By the time his men had brought him in, I had to put him in stasis to  
keep him alive."  
  
"But we need to know, Doctor," Sisko declared angrily. "If it's some kind of viral  
infection, any one of us could be next."  
  
"I can at least rule out any virus," said the doctor, as he punched up O'Brien's vital  
information on the computer console. "I ran a biofilter on him once I placed him in stasis. He  
showed no signs of any viral infection, but his condition only worsened. The stasis is arresting the  
condition, but hasn't halted it entirely. If I can't find the cure within five days, he'll die."  
  
"Have you contacted his family, Doctor?"  
  
"I managed to speak to his father Michael in Ireland, but I haven't been able to contact  
Keiko. I left a message with her father Hiro Ishikawa in Japan, but--"  
  
The two men heard a sudden scuffle outside the infirmary. "Let me go!" a terrified voice  
shouted. "My husband's in there!" Sisko nodded his head, saying, "Message received."  
  
Keiko O'Brien immediately rushed into the infirmary, Major Kira Nerys trying desperately  
to stop her. "This isn't a good idea, Keiko," she pleaded. "Dr. Bashir is doing all he can for  
Miles..."  
  
"Please," Julian raised his hand to stop Kira. "She deserves to be here as much as  
anybody." Kira reluctantly dropped her objections, and Keiko rushed to Bashir. Fear and grief  
fought for dominance in her eyes. "I came back as soon as I heard, Julian," she breathed. "Where  
is Miles?"  
  
"He's in stasis," Julian said simply, as he took her by the arm and led her to the cryostasis  
chambers. He filled her in on her husband's condition, telling her of his impending death if a cure  
wasn't found.   
  
Miles O'Brien lay limply within his cryonic deep-freeze unit; a transparent aluminum tube  
filled with anesthezene gas, an arrangement that reminded Keiko too much of a coffin. His eyes  
were closed, his arms lay at his sides. Keiko rested her hand over her husband's face, saying in a  
timid voice, "We had a silly squabble--I couldn't even call it an argument--over whether he would  
be able to join us at his father's house in Dublin. He was still angry with Michael over remarrying  
so soon after his mother's death. I said we'd talk about it when the kids and I got back, but  
now--" Words gave way to weeping, as Keiko took in the face of her beloved; the pallid skin, the  
matted hair, the sickly purplish stains on his lips--  
  
She stopped and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. She then examined Miles, not as a grieving  
wife, but as a botanist, a scientist. "Julian," she started quietly, "what are these stains on his lips?"  
  
"I don't know," admitted Bashir. "I first thought that they were the symptoms of some  
unknown virus, but he was clean of any viral contagion."  
  
"Have you cross-referenced the stained lips with any known plant-based toxins?"  
  
Bashir's eyes snapped open at this question. "Yes, but there were no matches. Why do  
you say plant toxins?"  
  
"These stains," Keiko grabbed this line of reasoning like a drowning person reaching for a  
life preserver. "I was reminded of something I had read somewhere in the botanical journals.  
Something--" She slammed her fist into her hand. "Maybe the location of the stains has nothing  
to do with it. They only appear on his lips because that's how the toxin entered his system!   
Computer," she ordered, "Number of plant toxins that leave the following symptoms;  
reddish-purple discolorations on the skin, instant loss of consciousness, coma, and death within  
two minutes unless treated."  
  
The station's computer chirped, "There exist one-hundred-and-thirty-three toxins that  
meet stated parameters."  
  
"Let's narrow that number down." suggested Sisko. "Could it have been in something he  
ate?"  
  
"Negative," answered Bashir. "There were no signs that he had eaten or drunk anything  
for at least three hours before he succumbed. And all reports suggest that he was fine until just  
minutes before then."  
  
"And Odo's men entered his cabin immediately after he fell, without any incident," added  
Sisko, "so that rules out gas or any ambient airborne toxins."  
  
"Okay, that means it was something he touched," Keiko reasoned aloud. "Computer, of  
those toxins, number that are skin-permeable."  
  
"There exist eighty-nine toxins that meet stated para-meters."  
  
"Wait a minute," Kira interrupted, "Those stains are only visible on his lips, right?" When  
Bashir nodded, Kira continued; "Then if the toxin was neither ingested nor inhaled--and forgive  
me for even thinking this, Keiko, but that means that he had to be kissing something, or someone,  
to be poisoned. And I know from the time when I lived with your family that the last thing Miles  
would do is be unfaithful to you."  
  
Keiko nodded, remembering the awkward moments between Miles and Kira when the  
major became Yoshi's surrogate mother. "You're absolutely right, Nerys, no need to apologize,"  
Keiko consoled Kira. "That means that someone, or something, must have made Miles think that  
he was with me--Changeling!" she shouted. "Computer, of the remaining toxins, number  
indigenous to the Gamma Quadrant!"  
  
"There are no toxins that match stated parameters."  
  
"That we know of," Kira added.   
  
"I doubt that the toxin originated in the Gamma quadrant," Sisko observed. "There's been  
no activity through the Wormhole in recent months, and if this toxin came from the Gamma  
Quadrant, it would have been used a long time ago."  
  
"Okay," Keiko ordered the computer, "of the remaining toxins, number indigenous to  
Cardassian space."  
  
"There are three toxins that match stated parameters."  
  
"Good! List them!"  
  
"Tulla bloom. Native to several planets within Cardassian space. Exists only in cultivated  
form. Antidote to toxin on replicator files."  
  
"Computer," Bashir ordered from the infirmary's replicator, "Twenty CCs of Tulla bloom  
antidote." a vial materialized within the replicator chamber, which Bashir grabbed and fitted into  
the mechanisms of O'Brien's cryostasis chamber. Bashir manipulated a servo-hypospray within  
the chamber through the control console with practiced ease, and injected O'Brien with the  
antitoxin. He and the others waited for an elongated minute, before Bashir slammed his hand  
against the transparent aluminum casing; "No change!" he declared bitterly.  
  
"If the Dominion have resorted to using poisons," answered Keiko, "I doubt they would  
use one so easily treated. Computer, list the two remaining toxins."  
  
"Cardassian Nightfire. Native only to mountain ranges of Cardassia Prime. Long known  
to be extinct."  
  
"That rules that out," Keiko admitted. "And the last one?"  
  
"Mogarian Blood Orchid. Grows wild within the rainforests of the planet Mogar, near the  
edge of the Cardassian Empire. Antidote not currently on replicator files, can be derived from  
Blood Orchid pollen."  
  
"Is there any pollen available?" asked Bashir.  
  
"Insufficient pollen available within any Federation facilities."   
  
No one spoke for ten seconds after the computer's statement. There was nothing to say;  
the cause of O'Brien's ailment was now known, but the cure was still out of their reach. At  
length, Sisko shattered the silence with a quiet statement of resolve;  
"I'll be in my ready room speaking with Vice Admiral Nechayev. I intend to take the Defiant to  
Mogar immediately upon obtaining permission from Starfleet High Command. Bashir, you'll  
remain with O'Brien, do what you can to further arrest his condition. All other Defiant crew  
members will remain on standby; once I receive permission, we will leave for Mogar  
immediately!"  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Permission to lead the Defiant to Mogar denied."  
  
Sisko had to muster up reserves of inner strength to hide his outrage at Nechayev's  
statement. "Admiral, with all due respect," he reined in his voice to a low and level monotone. "I  
have an officer whose survival depends on obtaining a cure for the Blood Orchid toxin."  
  
"You also have a station under your command," Nechayev reminded the captain, her voice  
matching his tone for tone, "and the protection of the planet Bajor to consider. This mission to  
Cardassian space for a few plants only places the Defiant at unnecessary risk, while leaving DS9  
open for attack. I'm sorry, Benjamin, but the answer's 'no'. Admiral Nechayev out." She severed  
the communication before Sisko could protest her decision.  
  
"Damn!" Sisko slammed his fist on his desk in impotent rage. He began squeezing the  
baseball he kept on his desk, holding it idly in the preferred grip for a sliding curve ball, as he  
contemplated his options. Bleakly, they all involved consoling a soon-to-be grieving widow, and  
preparing a funeral oration for one of his finest officers. It enraged him to admit this, but  
Nechayev was right about leaving the station vulnerable for Dominion attack. But how could she  
coldly order him to ignore a dying man, to simply let Chief O'Brien die?  
  
The 'doorbell' chirp from the computer broke his reverie, informing him that he had a  
visitor. "Come in," he said wearily.   
  
General Markon, Klingon advisor assigned to DS9, strode into the Captain's office.   
Markon was a formidable figure even among Klingons, broad shouldered and bearing the stance  
and quiet attitude of a true leader of warriors. His left eye-socket, gouged out by a Jem-Haddar  
soldier and scarred over, was only the most recent of an impressive collection of scars, souvenirs  
of battles past.  
  
Sisko was too tired to be impressed. "General," he said, offering him a seat. "What can I  
do for you?"  
  
"I came to offer my condolences, Captain," said Markon, choosing to stand. "I  
understand one of your men is gravely ill. Worf has told me a great deal about Miles O'Brien. He  
has said that O'Brien almost has a Klingon soul."  
  
"I'm sure the Chief would be flattered to hear that," Sisko admitted. "Unfortunately,  
Starfleet Command has refused me permission to lead the Defiant to a planet where the cure for  
O'Brien's condition may be found." Sisko relayed the information about O'Brien's poisoning, and  
the Blood Orchid pollen necessary to develop an antitoxin.  
  
Hearing of O'Brien's condition caused Markon's blood to boil. "For such a warrior as  
O'Brien to die in his sleep, wasted away by a flower's nectar, is unconscionable."  
  
"Agreed. But I cannot go against a direct order from Admiral Nechayev. And yet I  
cannot in good conscience allow an officer to die without doing everything I can to save him."  
  
"I fail to see your dilemma, Captain," Markon offered. "After all, Nechayev is your  
commanding officer, not mine."  
  
"Are you saying that you would be willing to leave for Mogar?" asked Sisko hopefully.  
  
"Willing," Markon declared, "I relish it! I've been charged by the Klingon High Council to  
act as I see fit to preserve the Klingon Empire, and surely O'Brien will not be the last to fall to the  
Blood Orchid. Should O'Brien die, millions more would soon follow, Federation and Klingon  
alike. But if we should have the antidote to the Blood Orchid, we rob the Dominion of a  
powerful weapon indeed!"  
  
"I wish I had you here when I made my case to Starfleet Command," admitted Sisko.   
"How soon can you start?"  
  
"My ship, the Bat'telh, is ready to embark on my order. I only have two requests I would  
make of you."  
  
"Name them."  
  
"First, a Federation field replicator and a tricorder. I have taken the liberty of charting the  
course to Mogar, and at maximum warp it would take four days to get there and back, allowing  
sufficient time to claim the Blood Orchid specimens. I do not know how long it would take to  
replicate the antitoxin from the pollen, and therefore the field replicator will expedite the process  
of creating the antitoxin."  
  
"A sound request, General. Granted. And your second request?"  
  
"Sadly," Markon admitted, "none of my crew are proficient in either medical science or  
Federation technology. Therefore I would request that Lieutenant Commanders Worf and Jadzia  
Dax accompany my crew. Worf is one of the finest tactical officers I have ever served with, and  
should we encounter resistance from the Cardassians or the Jem'Haddar, I would want him at my  
side."  
  
"And you need Dax to operate the tricorder and field replicator," Sisko added.  
  
"I'm confident that you would approve of a Starfleet presence on this mission," Markon  
suggested, "and I need a science officer. You and I would both benefit from this."  
  
"As would our peoples," Sisko smiled like a poker player. He triggered the  
communicator, saying, "Officers Worf and Dax, please report to my ready room..."  
  
* * * * *  
  
"The Defiant will be leaving soon," Keiko said to the unconscious form of her husband.   
Dr. Bashir quietly monitored O'Brien's life signs as she kept her vigil in the Infirmary. "Captain  
Sisko'll be leading the mission to Mogar to secure the antidote to the toxin. And don't worry  
about Molly and Yoshi; they're back on Earth with my family. Father absolutely dotes on them."   
She turned to her husband's face again, governing the anguish she felt over his condition. "Listen,  
they're going to get the antitoxin, so all you have to do is stay alive until then. I know you, you're  
the most stubborn man I know. You've never backed down from a fight before. So you fight  
this, you hear me? You have to. Kicking and screaming all the way." She lay her head gently on  
the cryostasis tube, whispering, "I love you, Miles, and I'm not ready to lose you yet."   
  
She was barely aware of the door opening, but she could clearly sense the presence of  
someone behind her. She and Julian turned to see the face of Major Kira. Keiko could clearly see  
the lines that etched her forehead, the worry that sagged her posture. "Nerys," she started. "I  
thought that you would be on the Defiant."  
  
Kira sighed wearily. "The Defiant has been ordered to remain in Bajoran space."   
  
These words stabbed at Keiko's heart like an ice knife. "How can that be?" Bashir nearly  
exploded. "Without the antidote, Miles will die! And how many others after him? How can  
Starfleet be so short-sighted?"  
  
"Admiral Nechayev doesn't want Bajor to be left undefended if the Dominion decide to  
attack," Kira continued, although the tone in her voice indicated that she agreed with the doctor's  
assessment of the situation. "However," she added in a lighter tone, "General Markon will be  
commanding the Klingon Bird-of-Prey Bat'telh to Mogar, with Dax and Worf on board."  
  
Keiko weighed and measured Kira's words before speaking. "Do either of you know  
General Markon?"  
  
"I met him briefly, when we were held by the Jem'Haddar a month ago," Bashir replied.   
"Worf has spoken highly of General Markon. I'm sure that he and his crew will succeed in their  
mission."  
  
"Will they? Do they even know what the Blood Orchid looks like? Smells like? How it  
uses its attractive scent to lure its prey into its petals? Did you know that mature Blood Orchid  
plants produce blossoms three or more meters wide? Their tendrils could crush a bear, let alone a  
Klingon. Can you tell me to my face that they'll come back in time with enough Blood Orchid  
pollen to save Miles?" She sought answers in Bashir's face, and then in Major Kira's.  
  
Kira looked intently at her friend for a second, only to lower her head in sorrow. "I  
cannot make that guarantee, Keiko. I can only assure you that they will fight as hard as they  
know how to obtain the antitoxin, and leave the rest in the Prophets' hands."  
  
"Thanks for your honesty, Nerys, but that isn't enough. Not for me." She turned back to  
her husband, watching him almost as if he lay asleep in bed next to her. "I'm sure that you heard  
about the Pah-Wraith incident last year, while you were visiting Minister Shakaar."  
  
"Only the highlights," Kira admitted. "I know that Miles was scared for you."  
  
"That doesn't begin to cover it," Keiko answered. "Almost from the minute I entered the  
Fire Caverns of Bajor, my will was usurped by the wraith. I was a mere passenger in my body, as  
that monster returned to the station and, smilingly, gave Miles the ultimatum; he could either  
sabotage DS9, turning the station into a cronoton particle emitter, or start planning my funeral.   
He later told me how he learned that the chronoton particles that the Pah-Wraith planned to use  
against the Wormhole aliens would also kill the creature within me, and was able to use that  
knowledge to destroy the wraith.  
  
"Once I was freed from the wraith's influence, I told Miles how I could see and hear  
everything that happened around me while possessed, but I couldn't act. You may think this  
strange, Nerys, but I'm glad of those memories. As I said to Miles then, I don't ever want to  
forget how hard he fought for me." She turned to face Kira and Bashir, her brow firm and her  
jaw set with resolve. "How can I do any less for him?"  
  
Bashir made motions to stop Keiko as she left the Infirmary but Kira prevented him.   
"May the Prophets guide her," she said, "she has to walk this path alone."  
  
"Major," Bashir asked, "do you have any idea what she's going to do?"  
  
"What she has to," Kira answered. "I've seen that look in her eyes over a thousand times  
before, in the eyes of family and loved ones who would sacrifice their lives to liberate Bajor from  
the Cardassians so many years ago. More than once, I've seen that look in my own eyes as I  
would pass a mirror. Keiko will not simply stand by while her husband's life is in the balance.   
And I have neither the right nor desire to stop her."  
  
* * * * *  
  
General Markon sat up at his table, glared at the unexpected visitor to his ship and asked,  
"You wish to do what?" Several of his crew leered mockingly at the small human who dared to  
approach their commanding officer.  
  
Keiko O'Brien felt dwarfed, both physically and spiritually by the Klingon general, but she  
kept her gaze level and her jaw as firm as it would set. "I wish to accompany you to Mogar," she  
repeated, valiantly keeping the trembling of her guts from over-taking her voice. "I'm offering  
you my services."  
  
The laughter of Markon and his crew echoed through the mess hall of the Bat'telh. It  
reminded Keiko of the distant rumbling of thunder over her family's home when she was a child,  
and left her just as fearful. "Your services?" Markon said, with a feral smile. "And what would  
those services be?"  
  
"I--I'm a botanist," she stammered, feeling more and more like Dorothy asking a boon  
from the Great and Terrible Oz. "I've read extensively on the Blood Orchid and similar  
plants,"--not quite a lie; she devoured all the literature on Blood Orchids she could once they had  
identified the cause of Miles' condition--"and I am versed in the use of field replicators."  
  
Worf and Dax were among those present at this exchange. Worf stepped forward to  
speak to Keiko; "Mrs. O'Brien, your offer is appreciated; however it is unnecessary. Dax is  
familiar with the Blood Orchid, and can operate the replicator herself."  
  
"I have no doubts, Commander," Keiko faced Worf stiffly, "but I would still join this  
mission if you would have me. He may be your fellow officer, but Miles is my husband. Forgive  
me if I think that I'm more motivated than you."  
  
Worf fumed as though struck, but kept silent. Dax stood up from her seat, saying,  
"Perhaps she could work with me on identifying the Orchids once we reach Mogar, and in  
operating the replicator."  
  
"Jadzia," Worf turned toward Dax, "it would not be safe for her. Mogar is deep within Dominion-  
held territory, and it would not be prudent for her to endanger her own life to save the  
Chief's--"  
  
"Ah, Worf," Dax smiled knowingly at the man she loved. "My Klingon knight in shining  
armor. I fear that this damsel-in- distress is in no need of rescuing."  
  
"ENOUGH!" Markon shouted down this lover's quarrel. He turned toward Keiko with a  
slightly more charitable smile. "You have a fire in your gut, O'Brien. A quality I admire in a  
warrior. However, it takes more than just that fire. You must have resolve to sustain that flame  
lest it smother, and wisdom to temper the fire lest it consume you. Are you prepared to face  
whatever challenges await us in Cardassian space?"   
  
Keiko recognized the challenge Markon left her, the gauntlet he offered. She stood her  
ground, answering in a voice that surprised her with its assertiveness; "I have never considered  
myself a warrior. But if a warrior is what I must be to save my husband, then bring on the  
sanctified Targ."  
  
"I do not believe this!" a Klingon woman stood up at Keiko's words. "I had thought  
better of the great Markon than this! I cannot believe that he would even consider the  
supplication of this bloodless p'tagh!" She spat out the last word in such a vile tone of voice that  
even Keiko would not mistake it for anything but the most offensive of insults.  
  
"Have a care, Key'lash," Markon warned his crewmate. "If I so decide to permit O'Brien  
to join my crew, you will treat her with the respect you would show to any other crew member."  
  
Key'lash howled her rage at Markon's admonition, and stepped forward, her eyes never  
leaving Keiko's face. Several of Markon's crew backed away as she approached. "I am Key'lash,  
daughter of Morgohl," she roared at Keiko, "and I challenge your right to be aboard this ship!   
Answer!"  
  
Keiko stood her ground, answering Key'lash with what Molly often called her 'angry face'.   
"I am Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien," she said through clenched teeth, "daughter of Hiro Ishikawa. I  
accept." Markon's officers murmured excitedly among themselves, anticipating a slaughter. Dax  
suddenly stepped forward, saying, "General, you can't allow this challenge. Keiko O'Brien is  
unaccustomed to Klingon ways, you can't allow her to fight Key'lash to the death." At the words  
'to the death', Keiko blanched slightly. As Miles would say, she thought, "Oh bollocks, what the  
hell have I gotten myself into?"  
  
Markon chuckled soft and low. "Fear not, Dax, she will not fight to the death. We have  
not the time for blood battles. First injury or call of yield will suffice. But Dax is right, O'Brien,  
you are not Klingon. You may stand down, if you wish, without fear of dishonor."  
  
Keiko's jaw tensed, knowing that she would be ridiculed should she back out of the fight.   
"Thank you, General, but as the one challenged, I'm prepared to go through with this. That is,"  
she turned toward Key'lash, smiling, "if you're up to it." Her last sentence was laced with enough  
contempt that Key'lash snarled in anger. "You will lie awake this night contemplating you bruises  
and your folly!" she growled.  
  
"Then we'll have something in common," Keiko answered quietly.   
  
Markon raised his hands, silencing his crew and signaling the start of the combat. He  
clapped his hands hard, and a silent Klingon pushed a rolling cart toward the center of the floor.   
Others moved tables and benches away, clearing space for the battle. Markon stepped toward the  
cart and lifted the wine-red cloth cover. Beneath the cover, the cart contained a selection of  
bladed weapons; bat'telhs, d'k tahg knives and ceremonial daggers, plus two devices that could  
only be pain-sticks, whose tips generated enough charge to stop a bull elephant. Some bore  
purplish blood stains from past duels. All were masterfully crafted, beautiful and lethal. "As the  
one challenged," Markon addressed Keiko, "you may have choice of weapons."  
  
Keiko eyed the weapons, shuddering at the thought of what their edges would do upon  
contact with her flesh. She gulped hard and asked Markon, "As I am not versed with Klingon  
weaponry, may I request unarmed combat? Hand to hand?"  
  
"Do you approve?" Markon asked Key'lash. She nodded once, and Markon stepped back.   
"On my signal," he declared, "this trial by combat will begin." The two duelists faced each other,  
Key'lash's lip twisted in rage, Keiko's face a mask of grim determination.   
  
"She shouldn't have come," Dax whispered to Worf as she steeled herself for the  
seemingly lopsided battle. "Key'lash won't stop until she sheds blood."  
  
"I do not think she will have the chance," Worf answered his beloved. "Mrs. O'Brien was  
wise to request unarmed combat; a warrior who chooses an unfamiliar weapon is a fool. As for  
bare-handed combat," Dax almost thought that she saw Worf smile slightly, "watch and learn."  
  
Markon grunted something in Klingon that Keiko assumed meant "Begin". Within that  
split-second, Key'lash shouted, "Defend yourself!" and charged at Keiko, arms outstretched  
before her, her fingers curled into claws, ready to rend Keiko's face--  
  
Shortly after Miles O'Brien received his transfer orders from the U.S.S. Enterprise to DS9,   
he insisted that Keiko take some sort of self-defence course. Within shouting range of the  
Cardassian Empire, he fretted that she would have to defend herself and Molly at some point.   
Agreeing with his reasoning, albeit not with the underlying prejudice that accompanied it, she  
began a regimen of akaido classes under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Worf. When Worf later  
transferred to DS9 himself, he offered a refresher course, at which she excelled. Now, with over  
two hundred kilos of angry Klingon warrior bearing down on her, she felt like she was taking her  
final exam.  
  
She tensed herself as Key'lash lunged toward her, and just at the last possible second, as  
Key'lash began the arc of a mighty leap, she dropped below her.  
  
Key'lash missed her target by centimeters, flying over her. She executed a neat tuck and  
roll, landing on her feet with uncanny grace. "You call that fighting?" she spat at Keiko. "Only  
cowards and Ferenghi dodge their attackers!"  
  
"You want to come at me again?" Keiko beckoned toward her opponent. "Or are you all  
talk and no walk?"  
  
Enraged even further, Key'lash screamed "DEFEND YOURSELF!" and charged again.   
Keiko again stood her ground, timing Key'lash's leap perfectly, and crouched under her again.   
This time, as the Klingon passed over her, she jumped up toward her, impacting Key'lash's' torso  
with her shoulder. The unexpected impact knocked the wind out of Key'lash, and her altered  
momentum drove her headlong into a nearby table which her fellow warriors had hastily vacated.  
  
Keiko, having tumbled gracelessly to the floor after that foolhardy stunt, scrambled to her  
feet and approached her opponent. She noticed the abrasion of her cheek, and the slow ooze of  
lavender blood from her lower lip. "Do you need any help?" Keiko asked, extending her hand.  
  
"I need no help from anyone," Key'lash growled as she clambered off of the table and  
stood again before Keiko. She stared intently at her before speaking; "There is no dishonor in  
yielding to one who has proven herself a worthy adversary." With those words, she held out her  
hand. Keiko grasped her arm as she had seen Worf greet others on occasion, and Key'lash took  
hers. "Now," Key'lash warned, but with a faint smile tugging at her mouth, "you must prove  
yourself a worthy ally."  
  
"I'm sure I'll have the opportunity soon enough," Keiko answered. They disengaged their  
handshake, and Markon declared, "This trial by combat is concluded, Keiko Ishikawa O'Brien has  
earned the right to remain aboard the Bat'telh as a crew member, and honor has been served." A  
raucous cheer arose from the other Klingons as Markon motioned for Worf and Dax to join him.   
"Worf, you will bunk with my officers. I have arranged for special accommodations for Dax and  
the replicator equipment, and I believe that there is room for O'Brien to bunk with her. I must  
warn you," he added, turning to Keiko, "that your quarters are not what you would call V.I.P  
accommodations. You shall sleep on the same beds as the rest of my crew."  
  
"I've slept on stony ground enough times during survey expeditions," Keiko assured  
Markon, "not to mention sharing a Cardassian bed for the last five years with a snoring husband.   
Besides," she declared, her words a solemn vow, "I won't sleep well, if at all, until I'm back on  
DS9 with the Blood Orchid pollen, and Miles is well and in my arms again."  
  
Markon chuckled approvingly at Keiko's resolve. "Well spoken, O'Brien. Worf, show  
Dax and O'Brien to their quarters, then report to the bridge. Dax, O'Brien, once we are under  
way, you will provide whatever information you have available on the plants we seek.   
Dismissed." With that, he left the mess hall.  
  
Worf and Dax turned toward Keiko, a look of sly pride crossing Worf's features. "You  
honored me in your victory over Key'lash," he commented as Dax applauded her.   
  
"Thank you, Worf," Keiko bowed at the waist. "I had a good teacher. Although I doubt  
that Key'lash will forget what I did to her today. Or forgive."  
  
"There's nothing to forgive," Dax assured her. "She challenged you fairly, you defeated  
her fairly. As far as she's concerned, that's the end of it."  
  
"If you say so," murmured Keiko, still unconvinced.  
  
"Dax is correct," answered Worf. "Even if Key'lash sought a feud with you over this, she  
knows that if any harm befell you, I would be...displeased." He punctuated this last word with a  
growl so profound that it made Keiko glad that she wasn't Worf's enemy.  
  
  
* * * * *  
  
The next two days passed by without incident for Keiko. She   
assisted Dax in preparing the tricorders, and calibrating the Bat'telh's sensor array to identify the  
blood orchids as quickly as possible. Other Klingons greeted her in a brusque yet respectful  
manner; she suspected that Markon had to remind some of them to do so.  
  
She and Dax had prepared a briefing regarding the Blood Orchid, during which Markon  
selected an away team to retrieve the pollen once they had reached Mogar. Dax had outlined to  
the Klingon crew the dangers of inhaling the pollen in large doses; first a pleasant lassitude, a  
seductive feeling of euphoria, then vertigo, paralysis and quick death. Dax then announced that  
she and Worf had, along with the tricorders and replicator, brought some Starfleet issue respirator  
masks, which would be issued to the away team. This news brought some scornful remarks from  
the crew, but Markon assured Dax that the masks would be used. Keiko, for her part, was glad  
to let Dax handle the briefing.  
  
At the mess hall, she heard Markon's crew sing loud songs in honor of great heroes and  
glorious battles. Markon even invited Keiko to sing for them. Feeling put on the spot, she  
reluctantly sang a sad war song, "The Minstrel Boy", one she had heard her husband sing before.   
She got the feeling that her audience wasn't receptive of her song, but when she shifted to "Hearts  
of Oak", they smiled approvingly at the first line; "Come cheer up, my lads, 'tis to honor we  
steer." The sang loudly at the chorus; "We stand ever ready--steady boys, steady,--to fight and to  
conquer again and again!" Somehow, this bonding, this camaraderie made her pain over Miles'  
plight seem less. Not enough to stop hurting, but enough to feel hope that he would survive.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"General," Worf barked from the helm. "Approaching the planet Mogar."  
  
"Any sign of Cardassian or Jem'Haddar vessels?"  
  
"No signs of the enemy, Sir. Still scanning."  
  
"Bring us into orbit, Worf," Markon ordered. He triggered his comm system. "This is  
Markon, calling to Away Team. Report to the transporter room immediately, prepare for battle.   
This is a simple strike operation; we go in, we seize the necessary plants, we get out. You have  
been briefed by officers Dax and O'Brien on the dangers of the Blood Orchid, and will beam down  
wearing respirator masks to avoid breathing the deadly pollen. The Bat'telh will remain cloaked  
until we receive word that enough pollen has been gathered to replicate the antidote. You will  
maintain radio contact."  
  
To his entire crew, he added, "I am aware that many of you are uncomfortable with this  
mission. I agree, it is not the way of a warrior to sneak, to invade enemy territory without  
engaging the enemy face to face. Neither is it our way to be murdered in our sleep, unable to  
defend ourselves, which is the alternative should the Dominion continue to use this toxin. Fight  
well, but remember; you must survive this mission now in order to die gloriously in battle another  
day, and pass through the gates of Sto'vo'kor. Good hunting, crew. Qapla!"   
  
A squadron of Markon's finest warriors, led by Key'lash, beamed down to the surface of  
Mogar in full battle dress, their bat'telhs at the ready. Once the transport was completed, Markon  
ordered; "Dax, you have helm. Worf, take tactical. Keep scanning for Dominion and Cardassian  
ships, and alert me to the first sign of trouble. O'Brien," he turned toward Keiko, who stood  
tensely behind him on the bridge, "your task will come once the away team retrieves the pollen.   
You and Dax must be ready to synthesize the antitoxin immediately once we're on our way back  
to DS9. Understood?"  
  
"Aye, General," Keiko answered. She marveled at how sure of herself she sounded. Only  
two days ago, the act of standing before Markon turned her knees to rubber. Since then, she felt  
that she had earned his respect through her hard work and dedication.  
  
"Message from the away team," Dax announced.  
  
"On speaker," barked Markon. Dax triggered the comm system, and sat back as Key'lash  
reported in; "General, we've sited a large cluster of Blood Orchids directly ahead of us, and are  
approaching. How many stamens do you require?"  
  
"O'Brien?" Markon asked.  
  
"Twenty should be enough," Keiko answered. "Then we'll have back-ups in case some are  
contaminated."  
  
"You have your answer, Key'lash."  
  
"Aye, General. We're at the first flowers. Something's moving--Their tendrils are  
attacking us!" Markon and his crew could hear the grunts and roars of heavy fighting. "By  
Kah'less, they're as strong as targ's jaws! But they slice easily enough. I'm approaching the  
nearest flower. I've secured--three stamens, and--strange--"  
  
"Report, Key'lash," Markon's voice rose slightly, betraying his concern.  
  
"Feel--dizzy--hard to--think--" Hearing her slurred speech and slow, almost drunken  
diction, Keiko quickly triggered her own communicator; "Key'lash, this is O'Brien. Did you  
remove the respirator, repeat, did you remove the respirator?"  
  
"Negative," Key'lash answered drowsily. "I feel fine--feel good--" Her voice grew softer  
with each word. The fighting was growing fainter.  
  
"Blast!" Keiko pounded her fist on her console. "The air filters in the respirators aren't  
screening the pollen! If we don't transport them out, they'll die!"  
  
"But if we do transport them," Markon countered, "Your husband will die and the  
Dominion will have won. Neither option is acceptable. I need a third alternative."  
  
"Wait," Dax offered. "Adrenaline. If we can trigger a strong enough adrenaline rush, it  
might counter the druglike effects of the pollen."  
  
"How do we do that?" Markon asked.  
  
"Well," Keiko asked, "do you have any more of those pain-sticks from the trial by  
combat?"  
  
"I have five in the hold," Markon answered. "Yes, at a minimum setting, their charge  
should be enough to break the pollen's spell. Quickly, Worf, assemble some warriors to--"  
  
"General," Worf interrupted. "A Jem-Haddar vessel off the starboard bow!"  
  
"What?" Markon roared. "On screen!" The frightening image appeared on the main  
viewer; looking like a beetle's carapace, the enemy ship moved closer within view, flat and sleek,  
dark and deadly. "Have they spotted us, Worf?"  
  
"I don't believe so, sir. It's course would take it out of sensor range in fifteen  
seconds--WAIT! It's changed course! General, it's on an intercept course. We've been spotted!"  
  
"Lower cloak and arm all weapons," Markon commanded. "Prepare to fire!" As he  
spoke, a blue-white discharge of a plasma beam gutted out of the Jem-Haddar ship and connected  
with the Bat'telh. The Klingon ship rocked from the impact. Worf continued to scan his console.   
"Shields down to 65%. No injuries, only minor damage."  
  
"FIRE!" Markon shouted, and his crew eagerly obeyed. Disrupter fire lashed out at the  
Jem-Haddar vessel. "Hit it again! Don't give them a chance to regroup!"   
  
"Direct hit to their port engines. Sensors are picking up a slight power loss in the enemy  
vessel." The bridge lurched violently as the Jem-Haddar ship fired again.   
  
"Fire at will!" Markon commanded. To Keiko, he intoned sadly, "It seems, O'Brien, that  
I cannot spare my crew to rescue the away team. Forgive me."  
  
"You don't have to spare any of your people," Keiko replied urgently. "Request  
permission to transport to Mogar."  
  
"Don't be a fool, O'Brien," Markon answered. "You wouldn't stand a chance. Must your  
children lose both their parents?"  
  
"Not if she has backup, General" Dax stood beside Keiko as she spoke. "The two of us  
could cover more ground, and the pain-sticks would also be as effective as bat'telhs against those  
tendrils. Besides, Chief O'Brien wouldn't forgive me if I didn't watch her back. It's the only way  
to complete the mission."  
  
"Granted, go quickly," Markon barked. "But you have only five minutes. After that, I'll  
transport the lot of you back to the ship and we return home."  
  
"Aye, General," Keiko returned heartily. She and Dax reported to the hold to retrieve the  
pain-sticks.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Keiko never felt comfortable using a transporter, and kept her eyes closed while beaming  
down to Mogar. Once the transport was complete, she double-checked the two pain-sticks she  
carried, making sure they were still in working order. "Dax," she whispered, "are you set?"  
  
"Ready, Keiko," Dax answered. "You take the right, and hand the spare pain-stick to the  
first Klingon you come across. Got it?"  
  
"Got it," Keiko nodded as they rushed toward the fallen Klingons. Her heart hammered in  
her chest, partly in fear, partly from exertion. Approaching the side of one Klingon, she jabbed  
the business end of the pain-stick into his side. He convulsed, then cried out in barbaric bloodlust.   
"Wha--Where am I?" he asked shakily.  
  
"No time to explain," Keiko shouted. "Just take this and use it on the others."  
  
The Klingon looked at the pain-stick, then turned toward the Blood Orchid cluster, still  
writhing its tendrils toward them. With a look of comprehension, the Klingon nodded and rushed  
to a nearby comrade. "Quickly, man," he shouted as he lanced the other's side with the stick,  
"Awaken and fight!"  
  
Keiko started toward another fallen body in front of her, which seemed to drift further and  
further away with each step. Her legs grew heavier, and her heart thudded more dully, and all she  
wanted to do was rest, only for a few seconds--  
  
A white-hot fire deposited itself in her leg. She twisted around, and saw Dax standing  
behind her, brandishing her pain-stick. "Sorry, Keiko, but you were drifting."  
  
"Thanks," she winced as she tested her leg. "We'd better hurry." She hobbled as fast as  
she could to the figure in front of her. Upon closer examination, she recognized it as Key'lash.   
Quickly, she brought the stick down on the fallen warrior's ribs. Key'lash arched her back and  
screamed. "That's it, Key'lash," Keiko urged, "wake up!"   
  
"Who has done this?" Key'lash demanded. "O'Brien!" She lunged for her throat and held  
her three feet off the ground. "What is the meaning of your attack?"  
  
"It was the only way to counter the pollen," Keiko gasped as Key'lash gripped her throat.   
"Do you think you would be accepted into Sto'vo'kor if you were killed by a plant?"  
  
Key'lash loosened her grip on Keiko, letting her drop to the ground. "You are right.   
quickly, we may still obtain more pollen!"  
  
"Right," Keiko agreed, running toward the nearest bloom with her pain-stick pointed  
forward. She used the tip of the pain-stick as a cutting tool, lopping off four stamens before she  
felt the leathery grip of another tendril around her left ankle.   
  
She turned in it's grasp, scattering pollen from the stamen she still clutched in her hand.   
The tendril's grip felt weaker, yet she couldn't muster the strength to free herself. Soon, she felt  
no desire to free herself, only the overpowering need to rest, to sleep--  
  
As her world drifted into blackness, her last thoughts were of Miles.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Keiko, wake up." A vague awareness of someone standing over her was all she felt as  
she slowly stirred to consciousness.   
She became aware of a dull throbbing pain in her leg, but could still move her toes. She opened  
her eyes, only to squint at the harsh glare of the artificial lights. Slowly, she forced her eyes to  
open.   
  
A blurry figure greeted her eyes. As she strained to focus, she heard its voice saying,  
"She's coming 'round," in a familiar and soothing tone. As her eyes grew accustomed to the light,  
she could make out features; a lantern-jawed, boyish face, framed by a nest of sandy blond curls--  
  
"Miles," she gasped, overjoyed to see her husband alive and well. She tried to sit up to  
embrace him. but the room tilted ninety degrees, forcing her to lie back down.   
  
"Easy, darling," Miles urged her gently, holding her hand. "You're just now recovering  
from the Blood Orchid pollen. Julian says you'll need to rest for a day or two."  
  
"Miles," she asked weakly, "am I in the infirmary? Did the antitoxin work? Are you really  
well?"  
  
"Yes, yes, and," Miles smiled proudly at his wife, "thanks to you, yes."  
  
"I filled the Chief in while you were under," Dax added, and Keiko only now noticed she  
was in the room. "Your stunt with the pain-sticks did the trick. We were able to rouse Markon's  
crew to finish their task before we were all beamed aboard the Bat'telh."  
  
"How badly was the ship damaged? Any casualties?"  
  
"The Bat'telh will need repairs, but she's a tough ship. And the crew only suffered minor  
injuries. We gathered twelve stamens in all, which turned out to be more than enough to  
synthesize the antitoxin. The formula is now logged into the replicator banks, and is being  
transmitted along the width and breadth of Federation space, as well as the Klingon Empire."  
  
"I want you to know," Captain Sisko observed from the entrance to the infirmary, "that I  
consider your actions to have been reckless and foolhardy, if not downright suicidal. And I'm  
submitting your name to Starfleet Command, in nomination for the Christopher Pike medal for  
conspicuous bravery."  
  
"My wife, the hero," Miles positively beamed. Keiko blushed crimson at the attention.   
  
"I'm no hero," she insisted, "I was just a woman scared of losing the man she loved." And she held  
Miles' hand a little tighter.  
  
"So how's my patient?" Dr. Bashir asked as he rushed into the infirmary.   
  
"Just fine, Julian," Keiko answered. "If you don't count the danger of drowning in undue  
adulation."  
  
"I'm afraid that you haven't heard the last of the adulation, although I wouldn't say it was  
undue." As he spoke, Dr. Bashir administered a hypospray into Keiko's arm, and again into Miles'  
arm. "Anti-intoxicant."  
  
"I thought you said that the antitoxin already worked," Keiko asked, confused.  
  
"No, not 'antitoxin'," Bashir explained, "'anti-intoxicant'. You'll understand in a second."   
The moment he finished speaking, a raucous yell arose from the hallway. As Bashir administered  
the anti-intoxicant to Captain Sisko, Dax and himself, Worf and Markon strode into the room,  
bearing an enormous cask between them. "Let the blood-wine flow," Markon called out as he  
ripped the top off of the keg, "in honor of a great hero!" Key'lash and several others from the  
Bat'telh crew filed in, bearing brass goblets. Worf and Markon plunged each goblet into the  
barrel, filling it with the seething brew. Worf handed one goblet to Keiko, who grasped it in both  
hands. The other Klingons passed their goblets to be filled, and soon, every person in the room  
held a goblet of deep crimson wine.  
  
"You have served with honor and distinction, Keiko O'Brien," Worf intoned with solemn pride. "Your   
quick thinking and cool-headedness brought about victory when all seemed lost."  
  
"You have proven yourself to be a worthy warrior," Key'lash proclaimed, "and we honor  
you as befits a warrior!" She began to sing in Klingon, a low guttural cadence. Several other  
Klingons picked up the melody, including Worf and Markon. They sang deeply and with full  
throats and diaphragms. Then they sang their song in Federation standard;  
  
Her husband, he fell victim to  
Dominion treachery,  
But to become dread Fek'lar's prize  
Was not his destiny,  
For his brave wife did venture forth  
Across the galactic sea,  
And on the planet Mogar, she  
Did claim her victory.  
  
So raise your glass, my hearty crew,  
And 'fore this night is done  
We'll sing that all will know her name  
And of the prize she's won.  
Yes, raise your voice for all to hear,  
And shout out to the sun,  
"The Spirit of Kah'less lives on  
In Keiko O'Brien!"  
  
  



End file.
